I was born in 1942 and it is hard to believe, sometimes, that I have made it all the way to 2015. My father’s father, my wise grandfather, lived to be 95 years old, and he was still working, walking miles each day, until a few weeks before he died. He knew his time was up when he was in the hospital the last few days of his life. So, he took out the tubes from his body, himself, walked out of the hospital, walked back to his home, and died in his own bed, as he had wished. He often said, “The good Lord only made one mistake. He did not create man to live 150 years.”
I now see what my grandfather meant. I feel, sometimes, that I am just awakening, fully, to why we are on this planet, what our lives mean, and how we are evolving as human beings, collectively.
I have the curiosity to want to stay around to see how different our planet, and its people, will be in 80 years, when I would be 152. Hopefully, the new generations will see that all life is interconnected and that they will be evolved enough to respect all life, with awe and with love. We truly receive what we give out to the Universe.
I think I will study Buddhism this year, although I will remain a Christian. There need be no conflict in that, in my way of thinking. I, also, plan to lose weight, perhaps incorporating yoga into my plan. I want to spend everyday trying to raise my consciousness higher so that I can also feel that interconnectedness among all life within my soul and and in my body, as well as know it with my mind. Thanks be to God. Karma. May God bless us, everyone of us, in drawing closer to Him, as we each travel our individual journeys on Earth.
I believe that we each have a role, or a raison d’etre, for being on this planet while we live. I believe that when we have fulfilled our roles here, we die or transition to a higher realm. I feel that I have many years to remain here before my raison d’etre is completed.
Once, I wrote a short, musical poem about the irony that exists in that some live to be 100 and some live only to be 24 hours old when they pass, like my infant son, Tom. My poem was lyrical, not morbid at all – just in tune with the rhythms of life. I wrote it several years after Tom had died, when I was still in my 20s. I remember closing the poem with the words, “Will you share with me?” in a final statement of irony and love.
Happy New Year, to all! Mary Elizabeth